


i will find you

by buddhaghost



Series: hey, brother [1]
Category: Stranger Things - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Post Season 3B (Teen Wolf), Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Has Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:35:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24816952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buddhaghost/pseuds/buddhaghost
Summary: Stiles is tired of not knowing what is a dream and what is not. El just wants to find her brother.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Stiles Stilinski
Series: hey, brother [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795693
Comments: 6
Kudos: 94





	i will find you

**Author's Note:**

> couldn't get this crossover out of my head, first time writing for either of these fandoms but hey gotta start somewhere.

It’s dark.

It’s the first thing Stiles notices – the blackness, expanding all around him, infinite. Like a room with no clear borders. He stands, shifts his weight, listens.

His feet are wet. That’s the second thing he notices; he’s standing in a shallow coating of water, not deep enough to completely submerge his feet. Like a puddle, though it seems to span the entire area. The hem of his pants, the baggy gray sweats that he stole from Scott back in the beginning of the year, are soaked through where they brush the ground. He flexes his toes, feeling the water splash beneath him.

The third thing Stiles notices is that he’s not sure whether he’s dreaming or not. After the Nogitsune, and everything leading up to it, his grasp on the difference between reality and dreaming has been tenuous at best. Being locked in his own mind, sadly, is not an unfamiliar experience, but he isn’t exactly sure that’s what’s going on here.

“Hello?” Stiles calls out, before cringing at the thought of catching unwanted attention. Just because he can’t see anything through the darkness, doesn’t mean that there’s nothing there.

His voice travels, growing distant, and nothing jumps out at him. He steps forwards, and the resounding splash echoes into the vast nothingness.

Then, a sound, behind him. Another footstep, gentle. A soft voice, whispering, “Brother.”

Stiles whips around. There is another person here, about twenty feet away from him. A girl. She’s young, poised light on her feet, probably a few feet smaller than Stiles and a good few years younger, too. But despite her small stature, she has an imposing aura. She’s at ease, and almost seems illuminated from within. A commanding presence, as if she is intimately familiar with this cavernous darkness.

Stiles moves, an aborted half-step in her direction. “Uh, hey,” he says, voice now sounding too loud. “Do I know you?”

The girl’s eyes are dark, boring into his for a moment, before she lifts her chin and begins to stride forwards. Stiles can only watch as she closes the distance in a few short moments, footsteps splashing water up the back of her legs, splattering her dark jeans. She doesn’t seem to notice.

She stops a few steps away from Stiles, and they regard each other. The girl’s face is serious, almost somber. Dark hair frames her face, hanging to her chin, and her brow is furrowed. Stiles feels pinned by her gaze.

“You’re like me,” she says, her voice stronger than before. Confident.

Stiles shakes his head, eyebrow raising. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

The girl doesn’t answer, instead directing her gaze downwards. She grips Stiles’ right arm, pulling it forwards and pushing his sleeve up in one fluid motion, and Stiles is too startled to stop her.

“What’re you –” Stiles goes to jerk his arm back but finds himself frozen. Because etched into the softness of his inner wrist is the number **003**. It stands out stark against his pale skin, and Stiles is transfixed. It looks old, but very clearly permanent. Which doesn’t make any sense, because Stiles knows his body, and he’d _sure as hell know_ if he’d gotten a tattoo.

The girl is smiling, satisfied. She taps the number with one finger, before revealing her wrist to him. **011**. Her grin is blinding. “See, like me. Brother.”

There’s a buzzing in Stiles’ ears, distant and low but there. And something else, a crackling, like electricity is thrumming beneath his skin. There’s a shift, the cavernous darkness suddenly feeling too small, like Stiles is pinned as he stares at the wrists, the matching tattoos. He reaches out, grips her wrist, more in an effort to ground himself than anything else. The buzzing in his ear is becoming a roar, the thrumming becoming more intense, and the girl inhales sharply and looks up at Stiles.

She drops his wrist and steps back, tugging in his grip. “Wait,” Stiles tries to say, but he can’t even hear himself over the buzzing in his ears. The pounding beneath his skin, the pressure building, like someone’s connected him to a live wire. It’s like he’s cracking, something forcing itself from the inside out, and he cries out suddenly, dropping to his knees. “Wait!”

The girl’s face contorts, almost in pain. “I’ll find you, brother,” she says, before wrenching her wrist from his grasp. He wasn’t even aware he’d been holding her so tightly, but her absence now feels physical, and he watches as she turns to smoke, fading, and Stiles can’t help but _yell_ as the darkness lifts up, disappearing with her, and –

And he wakes up, drenched in sweat, legs tangled in his sheets as he screams himself hoarse. His door flies open and his dad is there, rushing to his side, arms out in a calming manner as he attempts to gather Stiles to him. But Stiles is frantic, limbs flailing as he works to free his right arm from the blankets. He has to see, has to know it wasn’t a dream, because it had felt so _real_.

Ignoring his dad, he flips his wrist over, and sags almost immediately, unsure of whether he should be relieved or not. Because stamped on his wrist, bisected by the pale blue of his veins beneath, is the number **003**.

\---

Hundreds of miles away, a girl pulls off her blindfold and sits back, exhaling shakily. She feels tingly, like how the air feels before a storm. Like she’s stood too close to lightning.

She lifts her arm up to wipe at her nose, a routine that has become second nature. But she’s stopped by one thing; a pale red mark, encircling her wrist. The skin is hot, tender, and prickles uncomfortably. It’s where her brother, Three, had grabbed her in his panic.

She’s not bothered. Grabs some ice from the freezer, wraps it loosely with an ace bandage. The mild pain is nothing compared to the satisfaction of having found another one like her, a brother. He’s older, but had seemed so shocked when she showed him their wrists. Like he’d never even seen his before.

When she’d grabbed his arm, she had sensed a block, something keeping him from remembering. Holding memories, parts of him, at bay. She had touched it lightly, experimentally, and _that_ had happened.

But it doesn’t matter what he can or can’t remember. Because Number Three – Stiles Stilinski – is her brother. And she’s going to go get him.

**Author's Note:**

> queue el unintentionally wreaking absolute havoc on stiles' life
> 
> please feel free to leave a comment or a kudo if you're so inclined!:)


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